Several days had passed since that evening.
Bemperlein and Julius had gone to Grunwald, and the former had already written letters to Melitta and to Oswald. His pupil had found a home in the family of a government officer, who had two sons of nearly the same age as Julius. He wrote Oswald that he had a long and most interesting conversation with Professor Berger, the results of which he promised to tell his friend on his return to Berkow, some time in the next week, in order to take a final farewell. This only he added, that he was more decided than ever, and ready to enter immediately upon his new profession.
The day after Bemperlein's departure, the surveyor had arrived at Grenwitz; he had stayed only a few hours, however, to hold a conference with the baron and the baroness, and then he had gone to another estate which was to be surveyed, and where, as he told Oswald, he would "raise his wigwam" for the present. Oswald had found him to be a very lively, witty, and apparently well-read man, quite young yet, but well educated, and he was glad to have a prospect of seeing more of him, as Mr. Timm was soon to come to Grenwitz to make plats and drawings. The baroness, always looking forward, had already ordered two rooms in the same wing in which Oswald lived to be prepared for him, and large tables had been arranged there.
For next Sunday the family at Grenwitz, with Doctor Stein, had been invited to dine with Baron Barnewitz, Melitta's cousin. Oswald had been very much tempted to refuse the invitation at once, but he had yielded to Melitta's advice and accepted.
"What am I to do there," he had said to Melitta, "they only invite me either because they want partners for the dance, or to pay a compliment to the old baron, but surely not for my own sake. I shall be looked upon there like a Mohican among the Iroquois, like a spy in the camp. I know the nobles. The nobleman is only courteous and agreeable to the not nobly born as long as the two are alone; if there are several nobles present, they run together like mercury, and show their esprit de corps to the outsider. I tell you, Melitta, I know the nobles, and I hate them."
"But you love me, Oswald, and I also belong to the proscribed class."
"Unfortunately," said Oswald, "and that is the only defect, sweet one, which I have ever seen in you. But then you are so very sweet and good, and you go through all the mire without receiving a single stain on your robe. And much as you must gain by comparison with these vain, stupid peacocks, I can yet not help fearing that unawares some spark of the fiery hatred which I feel for the whole concern, may fall upon you also. Now you are my queen, my châtelaine, who has stolen away from her château to embrace her beloved by stealth for a moment, and I forget your rank, your greatness here in this charming forest solitude. You are nothing to me but she whom I love, whom I worship,--just what you would be to me if you were the beggar's daughter,--but there, in the brilliantly lighted rooms, surrounded by your great people, flattered and honored by everybody, there I cannot shut my eyes, and shall be painfully reminded that I ought not to have raised my eyes so high."
"Now, Oswald," said Melitta, fixing her eyes firmly on his, "is that kind in you? Are you mocking me when you talk so? I hear it in the harsh tone of your voice; I see it in the restless flashing of your eyes, which contrasts so strangely with their usual calm and steady light, that you feel very well how you appear in our midst like a born ruler, thanks to your mind, your superb manly beauty and strength. I have given myself to you; you are my lord and master; I would willingly accede to your maddest whim; I would bear everything from your hand, even death would not seem cruel to me coming from you--but why will you pour even a drop of wormwood into the cup of love, from which I drink with such thirsty, eager desire? Oswald, do not laugh at me."
"I do not, Melitta; I am sure of your love, although I deserve it so little; I know that your love is humble, as all love is which beareth all things and believeth all things--but you see, darling, that is the curse of these abominable institutions, that they sow distrust and hatred and discord in the hearts of men, even in such hearts which God has created for each other. And this poisonous seed flourishes and kills the roses of true love. I do not blame you for this; I blame no single person, who perhaps unconsciously suffers as much under these social distinctions as I do. But be sure it is so. The Catholic will never see his equal--his brother--in the Protestant, nor the noble in the humbly born, nor the Christian in the Jew--and vice versâ. Nathan's pious wish, that man might at last be content with being a man, is still far from fulfilment: who knows whether it will ever be fulfilled."
"And until then," said Melitta, in her usual playful manner, pushing Oswald's hair from his brow, "until then, you dreamy dreamer, and incorrigible censor of the world, we will enjoy the fleeting moments, and that is why you must go to Barnewitz to-morrow. Pray, pray, dear Oswald, come,--and I will talk with no one else, dance with no one else,--I must go to this party in order to gain the right to refuse ten others, at which I--at which I--would feel less free than here. And without you I shall not have the least benefit from going; on the contrary, I shall be as sad as a little bird that has been caught and put in the cage. But if you are there, dearest, I will be cheerful and dance and sing--no, not sing--but I will look pretty, very pretty, for your sake. Shall I go in white? with a camellia in my hair, or a rose? You have never told me yet how you like me best. Oh! what a wooden knight you are!"